


After Hours

by pixielove



Category: Larries - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: AU, Harry has to call Louis on a regular basis to pass on jobs, Harry works in a call centre for the council, Louis Tomlinson is an animal control officer, M/M, The Larries, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:24:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixielove/pseuds/pixielove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry works in the customer service call centre team at the city council dealing with after hours calls for various councils and businesses, taking their calls and generally giving upset customers a metaphorical pat on the heads whilst charming the pants off every other caller in the city. One day Harry notices a new name on the animal control call out roster. Louis Tomlinson. Harry soon finds himself straying off the job at hand whenever he’s dispatching Louis to a call-out. It’s becoming a problem. Harry has to ask himself how it’s even possible to start feeling things for a boy he’s never even met, for someone he’s only ever spoken to over the phone when relaying job call-outs. It is said that love was blind. It is suggested that one should fall in love with their eyes closed. Harry’s eyes are closed and his ears are open and this voice, Louis’ voice, suddenly has a hold on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

Rain trickled from the bleak British skies as Harry walked to work in the rain, heading toward the concrete council building which lay in the heart of the city. It was an ungodly hour. The sun had barely just risen, though you couldn’t much tell with the constant grey clouds hanging overhead. Crossing through the botanical park, Harry walked over a wooden bridge with a lake running beneath it and filed up the council staircase and rummaged for his key in his backpack. Fishing it out, he slid the key in and stabbed in his pin number and hooked the key to the hem of his black skinny jeans, running his hands through his unruly mane now wet from the rain. The foyer was empty as always during after hours. At an unhurried pace he pressed up for the elevator and waited until the light flashed and the lift opened for him. Harry pressed the button for the seventh floor and yawned, hoping it would be a quite Sunday. There was generally less staff on board on a Sunday and so it always felt like more calls were coming in, when in fact, it just felt like more as less people were there to answer them. Simon, the manager of the council call centre would always go into panic mode if he thought any of the rate payers were waiting on hold too long and it was thus the underlings manning said phones who felt the pressure to deal with customers faster. The thing that Simon didn’t seem to understand, however, was that the after hours calls were nothing like the normal office hour calls. During the days, people just wanted to be transferred to various people in the office. It was just a case of entering their name into the system and hitting enter to transfer the caller to June at the library or Ross in building or whoever it may be. After-hours was a whole different kettle of fish. The city council in Harry’s town had contracts with various other council’s across the country, and a few other businesses, all in all up to about 40 different outfits. When every other district council closed for the night at 5PM, they switched their phones over to the after hours contact centre and as soon as it hit 5PM during weekdays, people from those other cities rang asking for people who worked in their local council – even though one would think - logic dictating, the office in their town will be closed by 5PM. But Harry found himself telling people the same thing like a broken record, “I’m sorry, they’ve gone home for the day. Can I leave a message?” After that first half an hour onslaught dissipates, the complicated calls start coming in.

_“Hi, I’m calling from 27 Roslyn Avenue and my whole street is flooded and it’s gushing into my driveway and into my garage. You need to send someone urgently!”_

_“I want to report a burst water main.”_

_“I need to pass on a leaking fire hydrant.”_

_“These fucking wankers next door have been playing the stereo all fucking night and I can’t sleep and I have to get up early in the morning. Get someone over here now! I shouldn’t have to put up with this!”_

_“Someone’s going ridiculously fast along the Thames river on a speedboat! He was out of sight within seconds!”_

Harry sighed. The only way he didn’t go absolutely mental – and maybe the only reason he survived in this place was because he knew that you could kill more bees with honey. His colleagues, he felt, often attracted the bad callers by their own argumentative tones and negative expectations. Harry got by on his charm and politeness, and if on the rare occasion someone was rude to him, Harry would never rise. He’d just calmly talk them round and eventually the person would turn from roaring lion into timid pussycat usually with their tail between their legs and muttering a feeble apology. But Harry was mostly lucky. Harry could pretty much charm the pants off anyone. He seemed to have a way with people, even over the telephone, whereas Liam seemed to attract all the arseholes. Zayn was the only other person in the call centre who was chilled and unbothered by upset customers. Usually he’d just pretend he was listening whilst completely immersed in his sketching.

 Harry grabbed his headset from his shelf and found a desk opposite Zayn who was clearly busy with a call but not giving the caller much, if any, of his attention. He raised a hand at Harry and nodded as Harry turned his computer on.

“Mmmhmm…yeah. Yeah. I see what you mean,” Zayn was saying after several moments of complete silence as he sketched furiously and yawned, “Yeah, I’m listening, mam. You were saying?”

Having fired his computer up and logged in, Harry logged into the queue and prepared himself for the onslaught that was about to begin.

 _“Doncaster City Council…_ you’re speaking with Harry, how may I help you?” Harry answered.

“Yes, hello,” the voice replied sharply, “I’ve managed to catch this mongrel that’s been a hassle, it’s been wandering onto my property for the past two weeks, pissing on my hedges, leaving deposits all over my lawn… I’ve got it tied up and I want you to get your animal control man to pick it up.”

“Er, hi. Yes, we can get someone to pick him up. Or her. Uhm… so you’ve got the dog secured, then? What kind of dog?” Harry asked, quickly zipping into the correct screen to log the job as a dog collection.

“How should I know? It’s a mongrel. Ugly looking thing. It’s brown. Probably a Pitbull. It looks aggressive.”

Harry had to bit his tongue and resist from educating the owner that dog breeds didn’t indicate aggression and that you couldn’t stereotype a dog based on its breed. But he sensed an irate customer on the line and thought better of it. His job was to placate and diffuse angry customers, not enrage them further. And despite the skyrocketing stress levels associated with call centre work and the fact that customers were good at testing you, Harry prided himself on having the patience of a saint.

“Okay. I understand what you’re saying. Let me get some details, eh, and then I’ll dispatch animal control and hopefully we can reunite with the owner…” Harry was saying, when the customer interrupted.

“I know who the owner is, he lives at 12 Rolleston Avenue and he’s a druggie, you know. He doesn’t even work. He shouldn’t be allowed to keep a dog. Nope, that mongrel’s been getting out too often. It’s not even registered. You can send your man now. I’m leaving in an hour so you better not be too long.”

“I’ll need some details before I let you go, for our records… name, please?” Harry asked, getting ready to enter the details into the system.

There was a loud sigh, “Agatha.”

“…is there a last name that goes with that, Agatha?”

“What do you need that for?”

“We need it in order to process your request.”

“Oh for God’s sake. Thompson.”

“Thank you. And your address and contact number, please.”

“What is this, the Spanish inquisition?” she grumbled, before reciting the details to Harry who quickly punched them into the computer and saved the job.

“Okay, thanks Aggie,” Harry smirked, bringing up the animal control on-duty call-out roster, “…I hope you find a way to have a lovely day, toodles,” he said, hanging up and giggling, before noticing that Zayn was shaking his head, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Babes, if I get your caller ringing back saying how ‘this young man was so patronising’ I won’t give you a lift home tonight,” Zayn threatened.

“Zaaaayn, I was just being _polite_ ,” Harry argued.

“’Thanks Aggie? Hope you _find_ a way to have a lovely day? That was patronizing as fuck!’” Zayn said with a hollow laugh.

“Was not,” Harry pouted as he dialled up the on duty officer. It was apparently someone named ‘Louis’ and he was on duty for the next month, “have we got a new guy on animal control for Doncaster? I’ve never seen this ‘Louis’ on the-” Harry was saying when suddenly the Louis in question answered. Zayn appeared to be unconcerned and the question was deserted.

“…yes, what is it?”

“…Louis?”

“Yes? What? Who is it? Cat got your tongue?”

“It’s Harry from after hours. I… I have a dog collection for you.”

“Fuck,” Louis swore, “just what I didn’t need. Just when you think it might be a quite weekend in with an old hag complaining about a barking dog, but nooo, no, of course not. Some do-gooder has decided to secure a dog so that I have to get out of bed and go down and collect it, is that what you’re telling me? Okay. Give me the details, _Harold_.”

Harry couldn’t quite tell if Louis was mocking him of it this was just his attitude with everyone.

“Caller’s name is Agatha, she’s got a Pitbull secured at 16 Rolleston Avenue… and her contact number-”

“Slow down, Harold. Let me find a pen.”

“M’names Harry. It’s not Harold. Just Harry.”

“Whatever, Harold. I haven’t got all day, you know. Spit out what happened. Roaming dog, was it?”

“Yeah. Roaming. She’s had problems with him getting out quite a bit and peeing on her hedges and going toilet on her property. The dog probably just doesn’t like her much. She wasn’t very pleasant. She called him a mongrel and said because he’s a Pitbull he’s obviously ‘aggressive’” Harry explained, as Louis scoffed.

“Aggressive my arse,” Louis muttered.

“My thoughts exactly. So, um, Louis… are you new to the team, then? I’ve never seen you on the duty call-out before, so…”

“Eh, I’m kind of new. New to the role. Not new to council. I worked in the customer service side originally, bit like you. Got bored of it. Would rather be in the thick of the action, you know.”

“And how’s being in the ‘thick of the action’ working for you?” Harry asked, biting his lower lip.

“Let’s just say it’s not as glamorous as you would think being an officer in charge is. You wanna know what dogs are aggressive? Those fucking little terrier types. Fox terriers are the worst! I’ve never been bitten by a Pitty. Only ever been bitten by those possessive little terriers. They can be vicious. Don’t let their size deceive you. And then there’s the fact that I’ve adopted several dogs who were about to be destroyed due to nobody claiming them or refusing to pay for release fees… so I’m a pretty poor animal control officer in that respect. I can’t just let a dog die on my watch, so I either end up taking it in or finding someone who will…”

“I think I would be the same,” Harry answered, adjusting his headset, “you know, next time someone tells me about an “aggressive” Pitty or Rottie, I’m gonna be like, ‘actually Fox Terriers and Poodles are probably more aggressive than Pitbulls and Rottie’s.’ Although I doubt the response would be favourable.”

“Ew, I don’t miss cranky customers at all,” Louis lamented.

“You know, I don’t mind it. In fact, I kind of love my job,” Harry revealed, suddenly aware of the utterly puzzled look Zayn was shooting him. He shot a cheesy grin at Zayn. “I kind of love my job, except for the days I don’t,” Harry amended.

“You’re weird,” Louis decided.

“And you still haven’t asked for dear old Aggie’s contact number. Are you gonna sit there and talk to me all morning or are you gonna do your job, _Lewis_?” Harry sassed, staring at his work time clock and seeing that he’d already been on the phone to Louis for fifteen minutes which was excessive, especially when there were four calls waiting to be answered.

“Trying to get rid of me already? Hey, has anyone ever told you that you talk like a rock star?”

“Not recently,” Harry answered, amused.

“What are you, like thirty?” Louis asked.

“Twenty.”

“Let me guess, you’re a freak whose had that deep gravelly voice since you were like sixteen, no? Bet it’s your weapon on the phones over there? Come to think about it, how is anyone ever angry at you?”

“…I developed early. And…uh…most times, yeah. I guess. I don’t think it’s my voice, though. They interrupt me sometimes and my team leader said it’s because I talk too slowly. Most times customers are quite nice to me, though. It’s not all that often I get people being mean to me. Aggie is probably my one grumpy caller of the month.”

“I’m sorry, what? The snail pace of your verbal articulation is slowly putting me to sleep…” Louis teased.

“Heeeey.”

Rachel, the team leader, was suddenly calling out Harry’s name from the other side of the call centre. “Harry, you’ve been on that call for twenty minutes now… there’s calls in the queue…”

“Shit, I’ve gotta go…lot’s of calls waiting. Hey, just before you go, how old are you, then?” Harry asked, finding himself curious to know.

“Too old for you,” came a pompous response.

“What-”

“Until next time, Harold…” Louis said, and there was clearly a smirk in his voice, and then he was gone.

Harry answered the next couple of calls that came with a flurry of questions and he hardly had time to process his conversation with Louis. It was finally time for his break.

“I heard you flirting with that animal control guy,” Zayn smirked, as Harry rose from his chair ready to make way for the kitchen to make a cuppa.

“Who me? Flirting?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you flirt with all the customers. I mean, you were flirting more than usual. Like, I could tell that you kind of liked him, from your tone, like.”

“Like him? I don’t even know him. That’s the first time I’ve spoken to him.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Zayn said, purposefully opening the job in question with Harry at his shoulder, he read the notes. “Babe, you forgot to get an ETA from him. Remember we have to log those safety reports and set the ETA…”

“Oh fuck, it totally slipped my mind,” Harry cried, rushing back to his computer, placing the headset back on and hitting enter to dial Louis’ number on the screen. He answered on the third ring.

“What?”

“Louis, it’s Harry again. Harry from after hours…”

“Well Harry from after hours, you just can’t get enough of me, can you? What can I help you with, love?”


End file.
